A day in 221b Bakerstreet
by Earwen Mitrandir
Summary: Sherlock got shot in his leg, and is badly injured. When John finds him, he looks after him. But what happens if there is an unexpected turn of events? This has changed into a series of little one-shots, but this one is a two-chaptered one-shot. Please, come in and read. Reviews make my internet work. :) John/Sherlock and sexy time in chapter 4 and up. ;) Chapter 10 is up!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys! I kinda just joined the Sherlock fandom, and I'm TOTALLY done for. This is just a cute drabbel thingy. There could follow more. (Depends on reviews, they make my Internet work ;) ) Also, my first language isn't English, and I don't have a beta yet. So if there's wrong grammar, tell me!**  
**WARNING: MxM**  
**There will be more hugging, kissing, snogging perhaps... slash? in later chapters. I take prompts but first I'll finnish this two-chaptered one-shot. :)**  
**Pairing: John W./ Sherlock H.**  
**DISCLAIMER: No profit is made out of this. I also don't own the characters. I just toy around with them a bit.  
Thanks to ~the-vampire-goddess for proofreading this story. Go look me (~EmmaPH) and her up on deviantart!**

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Sherlock tried to raise his head, but immediately an icy blast hit him. He pulled the collar of his shirt even higher. He walked quickly, sometimes pushing people out of his way. He had forgotten to bring his coat and scarf this morning because of the lovely weather.  
But the weather had changed dramatically, and he couldn't get a cab.  
That meant he had to walk two miles in the gushing wind and rain.  
In a linen, button-down shirt.  
He was shivering really badly, but he kept on walking.  
He tried to walk in an even quicker pace, and cursed the criminal he had been chasing.  
He had tried to shoot Sherlock, but instead of hitting the detective in his belly, the bullet had scuffed his thigh. It wasn't a severe wound - he had seen worse - but he had tripped and landed on the street. And now it had gone bad. He was pushing himself to his limits, and he knew John would practically kill him for going out on his own.  
Finally, Baker Street came into view.  
The shivering detective ran the last few yards. He pushed the bell, and immediately sat down, trying to hold some of his body heat.  
He heard footsteps, and then the sound of a lock that was being unlocked.

John opened the door, muttering a curse under his breath.  
"What is-"  
He abruptly stopped mid-sentence, seeing the consulting detective's frozen form.  
"Sherlock!" He exclaimed, horrified, before pulling his lover inside.  
This was bad. Sherlock was even paler than normal, and shivering horribly. His clothes were soaking wet, and a feverish blush was slowly crawling up to his cheeks. And his leg... what the hell had happened to his leg?! It was bloodied and his trousers were torn.  
John's doctor instincts kicked in, and he rubbed his hands along the other man's arms.  
"We need to get you up, okay?" He asked, trying to lift Sherlock carefully.

Sherlock nodded. When John threw an arm around him, he looked at him questioningly.  
"But..." he croaked, trying to not bite his own tongue, "But... you- you'll... get w-wet," he stated.  
John gave him a reassuring smile.  
"Don't worry about me, love. We just need to get you some dry clothes, a nice hot cup of tea, and a warm bath. And then I'll look after that wound, alright?"  
Sherlock nodded again. His voice was too hoarse to talk, or even to attempt to talk.  
They climbed up the stairs and when they reached the living room, John immediately laid Sherlock on the couch before putting the kettle on.  
"You wait here and I'll be back in a minute."  
Sherlock just curled up in response, trying to bite back the pain. When he was walking he didn't really feel it since because his brain was busy with getting him home. Now he didn't have anything to distract himself from the pain and it hurt like hell.  
He bit his lip, drawing blood.  
John came back over to him and wrapped three blankets around the detective, rubbing him dry, before he started to undress Sherlock.  
Sherlock whined as John took off his trousers. His lover looked up, anxious.  
"You need to tell me how much it hurts, on a scale from one to ten. Do you need more blankets?"  
Sherlock shook his head in denial.  
"Um... eight?" he croaked, ending it with a question mark.  
John nodded and opened his first-aid box, gathering some cotton balls and a bottle of rubbing alcohol before he turned to Sherlock, seeing the anxious look in his eyes.  
"Don't worry..." John purred as he sprinkled a bit of alcohol over a cotton ball. "I promise I'll be careful."  
Sherlock licked his dry lips and nodded, clenching his jaw.  
John slowly dabbed the wound, ignoring Sherlock's whines and groans.  
He looked at the wound, deciding Sherlock would have to take a bath before he would bandage it up.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs."  
Sherlock opened one eye. Wasn't John going to stich him up? He looked around quickly. No evidence of a needle with sterile thread. Not yet, anyway. Why did he have to move? He was actually quite comfortable where he was. Seeing the look on John's face, Sherlock turned around to make a point... and screamed.

John never wanted to hear that scream again. He fell to his knees, reaching for his belt. The wound was bleeding fast as Sherlock turned even whiter.  
John quickly undid himself of his belt to wrap it above Sherlock's thigh. Sherlock looked at him, questioning him despite his current state.  
"It's a make-shift tourniquet. Now, Sherlock, how long have you been walking with your leg like this? I need to know." John said calmly while he put a few blankets under his lover's leg. Mrs. Hudson would kill them if they got any blood on her upholstery.

Sherlock closed his eyes.  
It had been eight o'clock when he had left Scotland Yard. He had found the criminal's hideout in about half an hour. He'd waited fifteen minutes for the guy to show up. (Yes, he'd been so excited he kept on looking at his watch). The guy had drawn his pistol and shot it off two times. They'd both missed. The chase had been three minutes long before the criminal had turned back and shot once more, this shot being the one that grazed his leg. That would have been around 8.50 a.m.; it was now one o'clock.  
"About four hours..." Sherlock muttered, fearing an angry John.  
He got one.  
John's face turned red. He raced to the door and grabbed their coats.  
He jerked the detective from the couch - still being careful though - and fastened his belt around the sociopath's leg.  
"You complete idiot! Why didn't you go to the hospital!? Or came to me?! Now we need to go there anyway! God, Sherlock, you can be such an ignorant twat sometimes!" John cursed the detective under his breath.  
John helped Sherlock down the stairs and grabbed a wooden chair from the hallway leading to Mrs. Hudson's door. He pointed towards it.  
"Sit." He ordered, glaring at Sherlock.  
He ran out into the street, shouting, "TAXI!"  
A cab stopped in front of him quickly. John then hurried to the driver's side.  
"My friend is wounded; he needs to get to the hospital."  
The cabbie was about to tell him to get lost, but John pulled out one of the many IDs Sherlock had stolen from Lestraude from his pocket.  
Seeing the badge, the cabbie shut his mouth and grumbled a bit. John nodded, and ran to the door. Sherlock just walked outside, himself. John sighed frustratedly.  
"I told you to sit down."  
"And I did, but I deduced that you would've pulled Lestraude's ID already, so shall we go?"  
John huffed. Badly wounded and still Sherlock remained the same.  
He helped Sherlock into the cab before he got in and closed the door.

Sherlock sighed. Of course, the London traffic had to be worse than ever that time of day.  
He winced as the cabbie took an unexpected right turn.  
Wait, unexpected? He had memorized the map of London four years ago! He couldn't remember the route anymore? This was bad... even worse than he thought.  
He tapped John on his shoulder.  
"John?"  
His friend - and lover - turned to face him.  
"I can't remember the route anymore..."  
He saw the concern on his blogger's face. He knew that John knew what it meant.  
"It'll be fine. It's just around the corner, here. "  
John gave him a kiss on his temple, caressing his hair.  
Sherlock looked out of the window and saw St. Bart's. He clenched his jaw, waiting for the vehicle to stop.  
As soon as it did, John opened the doors and lifted Sherlock out of the cab bridal style.  
A few people stopped, looking horrified.  
Sherlock clung to John's jacket, fisting the material.  
His leg was hurting terribly at this point. This was worse than being choked into near unconsciousness.  
He whimpered as the warmth of the hospital hit his leg. This cold-warm mixture wasn't really helping the pain.  
He felt really weird now, actually; almost like when he was choked in the house of that girl from their last case. Soo Lin Yao, was it?  
The next thing he heard was John calling out to someone.

"Somebody, help me! He's been shot in his leg! He's lost a lot of blood!"  
He looked down, seeing Sherlock close his eyes. A cold hand wrapped around his heart.  
"Sherlock?"  
No answers. He quickly took his pulse.  
Oh God.  
"He's DYING, for goodness sake!"  
Finally, three doctors and a nurse came running towards him with a gurney.  
"Dr. Watson! What happened?" a female doctor asked as they laid the pale detective on the gurney.  
"I don't know exactly, but we need to get him a proper bandage, and he's lost a lot of blood, so he may need a blood-transfusion. I'll have to call Mycroft."  
The doctors nodded as they rolled him into a room. John pulled his phone out of his pocket when somebody tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around and saw the older Holmes brother, smiling in a sad way.  
"I believe you were going to call me?"  
John opened his mouth to ask how, and why, Mycroft was already here, but closed it again. Mycroft's network, of course.  
"How is he?" Mycroft asked, and John wasn't totally surprised that there wasn't much worry in his voice.  
"I don't know. He fainted a moment ago. He's lost a lot of blood, so we might have to do a blood transfusion... Would you...?"  
Mycroft nodded. John sighed in relief. He then walked to the room in which they had placed Sherlock in.

A nurse tried to keep him out, but as soon as she recognized who he was, she let him pass.  
Sherlock didn't look too well. An I.V. needle with painkillers had been injected in his left arm and they were busy cleaning and bandaging the wound. Everything was being monitored. He looked at the monitor and, to his horror, saw that Sherlock's pulse wasn't back to normal. Instead, it was about 55. They had given him an oxygen-mask to help him breath.  
John knew they had to do the transfusion immediately now. It would be only a matter of hours before Sherlock would drop into a coma if they didn't hurry. After the coma…No, not now; he shook his head, clearing it a bit.  
"He needs a blood transfusion. His brother's here; we need to do it now. How many does he need?" John asked one of the doctors.  
"About two pints, but what about blood difference? Do the brothers have the same blood type?"  
John sighed.  
"I'll take a look in their documents."  
He walked out of the room, searching for Mycroft. He was sitting in one of the plastic chairs, umbrella leaning against it, and he was on the phone.  
John didn't want to be rude, but, knowing Mycroft, he could go on for quite a long time.  
"Mycroft, come with me please."  
Mycroft nodded and ended his conversation with an icy goodbye that was only known to be from the Holmes brothers.  
He rose to his feet and John motioned him to come with him.

~oOo~

"Alright, Mycroft," John said while checking all the tubes and hoses again.  
"You might feel a bit faint after this, so I'll have to ask you to stay here a bit longer, that way we can keep an eye on you."  
The older Holmes nodded, shrugging. He wasn't planning on going anywhere.  
John checked everything one last time, and then turned the machine on.  
The hoses were slowly filled with blood, and John checked the monitor. If Mycroft lost his blood too fast, he would go into a coma too from severe blood loss.  
After two and a half hours they had two pints of Mycroft's blood.  
A nurse carefully closed the transfusion bags as a nurse gave Mycroft a medicine against fainting.  
Mycroft swallowed it and washed it down with the last bit of his tea.  
John ran out of the lab and headed toward the surgery to give the blood to the doctors for Sherlock.  
Entering the surgery, without fuss this time since he had on his uniform now, he quickly glanced at the monitor.  
Sherlock's pulse was still at 55.  
He gave the bags to a nurse who immediately hung them on a peg. She then put a hose into one of the bags and injected yet another needle into the detective's pale arm. As soon as the blood started to enter Sherlock's body, his pulse started to rise.  
After an hour, and one and a half pints of blood, his pulse was now at 65, which was a good start.  
His leg was bandaged now and, luckily, there was no infection.  
They moved Sherlock to a normal room, and John checked on him after an hour or so.  
He was greeted by an irritated Sherlock and a grinning Mycroft.

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**A/N: Yeey! Sherly has awakened! Sorry for the almost-death scene. I was listening to the music they used for the Reichenbach Fall (Why, you idiot?) and I thought: Than John can really take care of him after this, and who doesn't like a rebellious Sherlock, right? ;)**  
**Next chapter should be up soon. (Again, reviews make my Internet work.) Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Second chapter. Yeey! Currently really busy with school. Next update will be a bit slower. Oh yeah! You who have reviewed are amazing! Reviews = inspiration = less time needed to think of proper story = quicker update!**

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Sherlock's eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes.  
The first thing he noticed was a numb feeling of pain in his leg. He looked around. White, sterile room, two chairs, a few hoses and… Mycroft?  
Ah, two red-coloured bags on the left side of the bed told him that there had been a transfusion. (Had he lost so much blood? He couldn't remember.).  
So they would have needed a relative of his. That was probably the reason why Mycroft was here. He wasn't the sentimental type.  
But there was something odd.  
Why did he need a transfusion? He certainly hadn't been injured that badly.  
Mycroft coughed, as to tell Sherlock he knew that he was awake.  
Sherlock simply huffed.  
"Good evening, brother. I hope you're feeling better now?"  
There was no worry in his brother's voice, maybe a bit of relief, but that could also be because of the fact he could go home now. Sherlock glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes 'till seven.  
How long had he been sleeping?  
He sat up, cursing under his breath. His head hurt like hell.  
"What are you still doing here, Mycroft?"  
Agony rang through his voice as he spoke.  
Mycroft just grinned.  
"I'm making sure that you're okay. Mummy wanted me to."  
Sherlock glared at him.  
Then John entered. As soon as Sherlock saw the doctor, his eyes lit up with lust.  
"John…" he croaked.  
John smiled at him, and then turned to Mycroft.  
"Mycroft, you can go now if you want."  
The older Holmes brother rose to his feet and gave John his hand to shake.  
"Take care of him, John."  
John nodded and shook his hand once before Mycroft left, Sherlock watching Mycroft walk out the door of the hospital room.  
John closed the door.  
"Well, someone's eager to see me!" John said teasingly, seeing as Sherlock's pulse was now 94.  
Sherlock could feel a blush spreading over his cheeks. John took a chair and placed it next to the detective's hospital bed. Sherlock tried to bend over to give John a kiss, but the doctor pushed him back.  
"No, no, no, Sherlock. You need to lie down, and don't forget, I'm still angry with you. Why did you leave without me?"  
Sherlock grumbled and then mumbled softly.  
"I can't hear you, speak a bit louder please."  
Sherlock could hear the frustration is John's voice.  
"I'm sorry, John. But you were getting groceries, and Lestraude needed me. So I took off. I didn't think you would care so much."  
John stared at Sherlock in anger.  
"What do you mean you didn't think I would care? Are you crazy?! Listen to me, Sherlock Holmes, and listen well, because I'm only going to say this once.  
"I love you, I can't live without you, and I'm not planning on doing so. But if you keep running of without telling me, I swear, you're going to have to stay in this hospital for a bit longer. And what if something goes wrong? I don't even want to think about that!"  
Sherlock saw a tear sliding down John's cheek and brushed it away with his thumb before caressing his cheek.  
"I'm sorry, I won't do it anymore."  
John grimaced. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  
"What is it, John?"  
"You said I'm sorry twice in two minutes. That's a new record."  
The detective shrugged and raised his arms, as if he was hugging somebody, and pouted.  
"But can I have a hug at least?"  
John smiled, and leaned toward his arms.  
Immediately, Sherlock pushed his lips against John's. He bit on his lover's bottom lip, and suckled. He felt how John melted into the kiss. Slowly but surely, John opened his mouth, letting Sherlock take control.  
Their tongues met and firework exploded in Sherlock's mind. At first, they had taken things slowly, because Sherlock wasn't used to the mind-blowing effect sex could have. But then, he became addicted to it. Not in the bad way, not as he was addicted to nicotine patches - which he practically didn't need any more. No, he was addicted to John's body in a good way.  
John's body was so muscular from his time as an army doctor, but also lithe and flexible. He had a special room in his mind palace where he'd created a map of John's body. And John also had this smell… If he was stressed, he always thought of it and it eased his stress. The smell was a mixture of tea and oranges, and Sherlock loved it.

Sherlock was slurred out of his thoughts by a low, suppressed moan.  
He smirked and ended their kiss.  
"John, what if a nurse came in? You know I'm not myself, you shouldn't let me take control!"  
He feigned shock. John looked him over, and smiled lovingly.  
"I'm sorry, love. I won't let you take control. But still, your pupils are dilated,"  
He moved to take the detective's pulse.  
"And your pulse… is elevated." he whispered in Sherlock's ear.  
Sherlock felt a shudder roll down his spine as the doctor pecked his cheek.  
"I want to go home!" he growled. He actually hated to be taken care of. (unless John would do it, of course).  
John shook his head in denial.  
"No, you have to stay here tonight. I'm going home now to get your clothes, your skull, and your violin."  
Sherlock whined and seized John's wrist to prevent him from walking out of the hospital room.  
"But, I don't want you to go! Mycroft can get it!" the genius pouted.  
John chuckled at the petulant look on his love's face.  
"He's gone home already. I'll be back in half an hour. Need anything special?"  
When John walked out of the room, he could practically hear Sherlock whining.  
And then he could hear a low, soft word.  
"You."  
He walked out of the hospital, smiling, and got a cab to Baker Street.

~oOo~

John rushed into St. Bart's, knocking Molly over in his haste.  
He put the overnight-bag and the violin case down before helping Molly up while apologizing to her.  
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Molly! Are you alright?"  
Molly dusted herself off and after reassuring John that she was fine, a nurse came towards them.  
"Dr. Watson?" She asked, unsure off whether she had the right person.  
"Yes?" he asked, and waved to Molly as she continued on her way.  
"We've got a problem."  
John knew he wasn't on clinic-hours, and he needed to get to Sherlock.  
"Sorry, I need to get to my husband. Sherlock was pretty agitated when I left. I need to at least bring him his skull."  
He wanted to walk away, but the nurse's last sentence stopped him.  
"Doctor, Sherlock isn't in his room anymore."  
John turned around as a cold hand wrapped around his heart for the second time that day.

~oOo~

Sherlock was wandering through the hospital when he saw John enter. He grinned as he saw John bump into Molly because of his haste to get to him. He wanted to greet his husband, but a nurse with quite a history of one-night stands walked over to the doctor.  
Sherlock saw that John wanted to walk away, but somehow he changed his mind. As he walked past, Sherlock saw the angry look on his face. He snuck closer, unnoticeably to John.  
As he walked past a chair with a bright-red scarf on the back of it, Sherlock took it and wound it round his neck. He then took a cap from someone else, matching it with the new clothes he had achieved - or stolen (you could also put it like that of course) - earlier on so that he was almost unrecognizable now. He had also taken a cane, because of his leg. It wasn't hurting, but he needed something to hold him up a bit. He tapped on the nurse's shoulder and coughed.  
She was startled a bit, but soon recovered.  
"I believe you might want to take a look in room 261. My daughter isn't doing well."  
The nurse looked skeptical, but finally walked away, muttering something about stupid clients. And she works in a hospital. Shocking.  
John still hadn't recognized him. This was rather fun, he should do this more often.  
He also tapped on John's shoulder. As the doctor turned around he was glad that he'd pulled the cap a bit further down, because of the suspicious look he was giving him.  
"Yes sir?"  
Sherlock recognized the voice John used when he was busy and didn't want to be disturbed. He leaned on the cane. His leg started to hurt. So this must have been how John felt in the beginning. Interesting.  
"I'd like to show you something, if you could follow me?"  
He limped to the corridor, motioning John to follow him.  
He smirked slightly as he heard footsteps on the tile floor.  
He opened the door to his room, room 221, and held it so his husband could enter.

John stopped quickly, frowning at the man.  
Why was he going to Sherlock's room? Why was he actually following this man? Who was this man, for God's sake?! He raised an eyebrow, coughing.  
"Yes?" The man with the red scarf asked, still holding the door.  
"Excuse me, but that is my husband's room. I don't see any reason for you to enter it, sir. And if I may ask, what is your name?"  
John looked at the man, expecting a full explanation. But the man just shrugged.  
"The name's George." Was the only thing he said, and after that, he entered the room, leaving the door slightly open.  
John sighed, and followed the man again. Once he was in the room, his breath stuck in his throat.  
The man had discarded his scarf and his cap, and John saw the bright grey-blue eyes and the black, curly hair he'd recognize anywhere.  
He ran to Sherlock, giving him a hug. As he looked up into Sherlock's eyes, they both burst out into laughter. John looked his husband over and admired how the jeans Sherlock was wearing made his arse stick out well.  
"My God, Sherlock, how on earth did you get a hold of these?" He asked, gesturing at the clothes and the cane. Sherlock shrugged.  
"Well, these are actually from a certain Mr. McQuain," he said while pointing at the shirt and the jeans. "The cane I got from your office. Hope you don't mind. Also, I picked up the scarf and the cap while I was following you. You know, the nurse you were talking to - Tia, I believe - has quite an interest in you. Her pupils dilated when she walked over to you."  
John grinned at the slight tone of jealousy in his husband's voice in the last part of his explanation.  
Sherlock then quickly seized his husband and pulled him in for a quick - but still very pleasing - snog.  
He hugged the man before whispering, "You're mine, and I just wanted to remind you," in his ear.  
John raised his head, and whispered, "You don't need to remind me, I'll always be yours."  
He gave his love a peck on his lips and pulled away.  
He put the two bags down before he unzipped the first one, taking out Sherlock's comfy pajamas and his favourite blue-striped dressing-gown. John then handed them over to the detective.  
"Go change." He demanded. Just as Sherlock went to change, a nurse came in. He gave a menu to John, and he recognized the boy as one of the new employees.  
"Dr. John Watson, it's nice to meet you."  
He offered the boy his hand. The boy smiled nervously and shook it.  
"Hi, I'm Juan, nice to meet you, too."  
They had a little chat, but the boy had to get going and after a polite goodbye, John quickly returned to unpacking the bags.  
He placed the skull on Sherlock's night stand before he put the clothes in one of the drawers of the dresser. Finally he laid the violin and the bow on the bed.  
Sherlock walked back in again, still holding onto the cane.  
He sat down on to the bed and picked up his violin.  
He played a few notes, tuning the instrument and then started to play.  
John looked at the back of his husband in awe as he played. Sherlock's shoulder blades always astonished him. Well, Sherlock's whole body did, actually.  
He looked at the menu in his hand, but before he could say anything, Sherlock calmly said, "No, thank you."  
John frowned.  
"Sherlock, why don't you eat something? You haven't had dinner in two days. And," he quickly continued, ignoring Sherlock's attempts to say something in his defense, "You've lost a lot of blood. You're eating, even if it's just some chicken soup."  
Sherlock merely nodded, and continued to play.  
John filled the menu in and ordered some tea as well.  
When Juan came back, he gave the form to him with a reassuring smile. Juan stopped in the doorway.  
"That really is beautiful music you're making, sir. Would you mind tell me what song it is?"  
Sherlock continued playing, but turned around.  
"I composed it myself, for John, my husband. Yes, husband, Juan. So don't try anything."  
Sherlock turned around again, carrying on, ignoring the shocked look on the boy's face. Juan turned red and quickly walked out of the room. John sighed.  
"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked, and stopped playing.  
"Nothing, just your response. He was just trying to be nice! You didn't have to tell him off like that."  
Sherlock huffed.  
"Aye, Captain."  
John smirked at the mention of his rank. He slowly approached Sherlock from behind and tickled him.  
Sherlock almost dropped his violin, exclaiming a flustered, "JOHN!"  
John laughed and they shared a bit of small-talk until dinner was served.

Sherlock looked at the damping plate of mashed potatoes, vegetables and chicken.  
"I thought you said I only needed some soup!" he pouted.  
John shook his head.  
"You've lost a lot of blood, Sherlock. You'll have to eat properly."  
Sherlock huffed, but gave in.  
John ignored the disgusted faces Sherlock was making. After the detective ate half of the food, he sank back into the pillow.  
"I don't want anymore."  
John smiled, and caressed his hair lovingly.  
"That's alright, love. Now go to sleep, and then we can hopefully go home tomorrow."  
He sat down next to Sherlock, who lifted his hand.  
"Hand?" he asked softly.  
John smiled and took his husband's hand.  
"Nighty-night, Sherlock."  
"Good night, John."  
The detective drifted off quickly, and was soon followed by the doctor into a nice slumber.

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**A/N: WHEEEEEE! Chapie Two is done! Keep your eyes open for an update and remember:**  
**Reviews = inspiration = less time needed to think of proper story = quicker update! **  
**Thanks a lot for reading! :)**


	3. Chapter 3 : Cupcakebatter

A/N: Hi you guys! So, this is chapter three, well… obviously! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/faved/followed!

From now on, this'll be a series of one-shots!

I was making cupcakes and I instantly thought of John and Sherlock making - or trying to do so - cupcakes! Cupcake-batter fight! ;)

Prompts are always appreciated!

As are follows, favs and reviews. :)

Love, Emma

Warning: Slight cursing, pre-slash.

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Sherlock was laid out on the couch in his usual position. He was wearing his lazy pajamas and his blue dressing gown that matched. John had gone out to do the shopping so now Sherlock was simply scrolling through Lestraude's text messages on his phone. It was a sad thing when the detective could solve all the cases with only text messages and photos from the crime scene. He was writing down a solution for a murder case, it definitely was an easy one, when he heard John coming up with approximately 4.2 pounds of groceries.

"Don't worry about me, I can manage…"

He heard from the kitchen. There was something off about John's voice. Normally he would be pissed when he came back from shopping, but now he sounded… excited?

He sent the text and put down his phone. He sat up straight and saw John unpacking the bags with a smile. He was never happy to unpack things. Definitely excited.

"John?"

"Yes, love?"

"What are you so excited about? Did we get a new case?"

The hope in his last sentence was clear; they hadn't had a case in five days. John just smiled.

"Come over here and look for yourself!"

The detective grumbled, but stood up none the less. He walked over to his husband quickly, wanting to see the mysterious thing that made John smile after doing the shopping.

As soon as he saw what it was, he rolled his eyes.

Flower, a carton of eggs, gallon of milk, bottle of vanilla-extract, a tub of butter, bag of sugar, cupcake-forms, and a cupcake tray. John was already gathering a mixer and a few bowls.

"John, are you going to make cupcakes?" he asked while reading through the cookbook John had just opened.

"We, Sherlock, are going to make cupcakes."

John stood up facing the detective.

Seeing the look in the other man's eyes, he huffed.

"Oh come one, 'Lock! It won't kill you! It's fun, see it as an experiment. You need to put the exact doses together or it'll taste gross!"

He looked at the sociopath, seeing this wasn't going to work.

The doctor crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Or," he said in a threatening tone, "no sex for a whole week."

As soon as he'd said that, Sherlock had gotten the measuring cups and spoons out of the cupboards and was reading the recipe. John chuckled. He should use that threat more often.

"John?"

"Yes, 'Lock?"

"Why aren't you helping? Go make the icing!"

John smiled. Once Sherlock was doing something he'd always be fully concentrated.

"Sure, love." he gave the consulting detective a peck on the cheek and started to measure the milk, butter, vanilla-extract, and the sugar. For some time the only things that were heard were the sounds of the mixer or questions like, "Can you hand me the sugar?" or "Where's the milk?" between the two of them.

John watched his husband fondly. He was so cute when he was concentrated. Just as he turned to his own mixer, Sherlock pulled the ex-soldier towards him and the cupcake batter. He snickered at the surprised look that was on John's face.

"Here," he said while reaching over to grab the spoon with the batter on it. "Try this!" He was so excited about it, that John couldn't help but giggle. He opened his mouth, and Sherlock slowly moved the spoon towards it. Finally it was inside his mouth and John tasted the light brown mixture.

A moan escaped his lips. He swirled the batter around in his mouth with his tongue.

"Sherlock! That tastes wonderful! You never told me you could bake!"

Sherlock smiled at John's praise. The doctor noticed and got another spoon full of batter out of the mixing bowl. The sociopath raised an eyebrow.

"John, what are-"

Then a clot of batter was launched on his nose. He looked at John, who was currently roaring with laughter, and stuck his fingers in the icing. John's eyes went big when he saw Sherlock slowly coming up to him with a devilish grin plastered on his face.

He looked so fucking sexy.

Distracted, John didn't notice that the detective had a clot of icing on his finger. Sherlock suddenly jumped forward and threw the icing onto John's face. It struck the doctor on his cheek. John wasn't one to react slowly; he wiped the icing off of his cheek and seductively licked his fingers clean.

Sherlock swallowed a moan, taking a spoonful of the icing and jolted it towards the ex-soldier. John dodged it, and in his turn, flung some batter at the detective. Sherlock grabbed the bowl while ducking and ran into the living room.

"Sherlock! I'll get you!" John shouted as he ran after his boyfriend. They were throwing batter and ducking behind things when Mrs. Hudson came up.

"Boys-"

Her eyes widened in shock and delight when the two men faced her. Both had batter and icing all in their hair and on their clothes. One of the chairs was practically covered with icing and the other one with batter.

"What have you done to my bloody room?" she asked, smiling despite the situation. John quickly rose to his feet, and walked away from the chair. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock and I just had a cupcake batter fight, believe it or not. We'll clean up immediately."

Mrs. Hudson chuckled at the expression on Sherlock's face.

"Don't worry, dear. The tapestry has had much worse than cupcake batter." She smiled and went back downstairs.

Sherlock looked at John.

"Are we really going to clean now?"

John looked around. The whole room was still intact except the two chairs.

"We'll make the cupcakes with whatever is left first, and then we'll clean up."

The doctor chuckled at the disappointment in the sociopath's eyes. He walked over to him, and pulled him to his feet for a hug. He nestled his chin in Sherlock's chest.

After a while he heard a small cough.

"Yes, dear?" he asked, raising his head. The next moment, his lips were captured into a kiss. A tongue slipped over his lower lip and he opened his mouth, letting Sherlock take control. After a while they were both breathless and had to stop. John giggled.

"What good did that do?"

"You still had some icing on your lips." Sherlock replied simply.

They put the cupcakes in the oven and cleaned up. John turned the oven off before he felt two arms wrapping around him and a chin rested on his shoulder. He got a small peck on the cheek. He shuddered in delight.

"Care to come to bed, Dr. Watson?"


	4. Chapter 4 : Ahn… oh John

A/N: Hello guys. It's me again!

This chapter is inspired by a drawing with the same name from ~Choko17 . Look her up on deviantart.

This isn't going to be a long one. But I still hope you guys like it!

Ideas are streaming into my head!

I AM ON FIRE!

Thanks to my wonderful beta: ~the-vampire~goddess

Love, Emma

Warning: Slash and all the good stuff! :3

First time EVER writing this, so don't kill me.

* * *

"Oh…Ahn…John!" Sherlock moaned while John slowly moved his finger in. The doctor smirked, and started to prepare Sherlock. The detective was soon fucking himself on John's finger, and he added another one.

"Oh my… J-John!" Sherlock squealed when the doctor's fingers brushed his prostate. A moan escaped the ex-soldier. Seeing Sherlock like this almost made him cum then and there.

"Jo-John," Sherlock looked at him, lust in his eyes,"…F-Fuck me!"

John smirked, ignoring his throbbing member, and brushed his fingers over Sherlock's prostate more. As the genius whimpered, John leaned over and whispered seductively in his ear:

"First, you'll need to beg…," he said before he bit lightly on Sherlock's neck, leaving a hickey. A shiver jolted through the sociopath's body, and he whimpered some incoherent words.

"Plea-ease! J-John, FUck ME!"

John happily obliged and positioned his member in front of Sherlock's arse.

Just as he pushed the head of his member in, the phone rang.

John looked at the phone. It was Lestrade. He bit his lip.

"Sherlock?"

"Ye-eah?"

"It's Lestrade. Answer it."

The detective whined, but grabbed the phone.

"Lestrade?" he managed to speak clear, but it didn't last long as John started to move. A low moan escaped his mouth, but he quickly coughed and hoped Lestrade hadn't noticed.

"Yes, Sherlock, we have a case and need your help."

Sherlock bit back a moan, but whimpered none the less.

"What, kind of… ahn… case?"

John was now thrusting in him, ignoring the fact that Lestrade was listening, and shivers of pleasure wrecked Sherlock's body every time the doctor hit his prostate.

"Well, um, it's probably murder, but there aren't any wounds."

John started to whimper along with Sherlock now.

"Oh… God…"

Sherlock smirked and said to John, covering the speaker with his hand:

"It's always… a good thing when… you provoke the deities…"

John just grunted and thrust into the genius again.

"Anh… Yes Lestrade we will be there in a minute… Ahh…"

John was now thrusting into Sherlock ruthlessly, hitting his prostate over and over.

"S-Sherlock, are you feeling okay?"

There was a hint of worry in his voice.

"Y-Yes… I'm… nh… fine… Oh…"

Sherlock had just enough time to end his conversation when John grabbed his member and started pumping.

Sherlock felt a heat spread through his body and he came.

"JOOOOOOHHHHNNNNN!"

The scream made the last bit of resistance disappear in the ex-soldier's body, and after a few more thrusts, he came, too.

They then lay together, cuddling, coming down from their post-sex high.

Suddenly, Sherlock jumped up. He quickly pulled on his black, silk boxers and went looking for a proper outfit.

"Come on, love! We've got a case to solve!"

John grumbled, but stood up and went looking for his boxers. He found them on the sofa beneath one of the pillows.

When they were properly dressed, they went down and Sherlock flagged down a cab.

Once they were at the crime-scene, Sherlock huffed. John hugged his boyfriend.

"What's wrong, love?"

"It's just so obvious! We could be home right now, cuddling. Instead we're solving a case that's not even worth a second glance!"

John smirked, and whispered, "What about later on today?"

Sherlock couldn't get the grin off of his face for the rest of the case.

* * *

A/N: Well, I guess you can say that wasn't that bad… right?

But, seriously, as bad as this story is, so good is the drawing!

Let me know what you think, and if you want more chapters like this one!

Love, Emma


	5. Chapter 5 : Movie-set Mystery

A/N: Yay! They'll start filming season three and four tomorrow (18th of March)! I'm so excited! I really want to know how Sherlock managed to not die. Hence this idea of mine, solving crimes on a movie-set!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!

The places are probably not logical, as is te case, but I thought it would be funny.

To: Guest

Thank you so very much! Since you haven't got an account, I'll thank you like this! :)

Love, Emma

First time writing a case! Please don't kill me! Thanks! ;)

* * *

"John!"

John's head popped up, looking for the owner of the voice. Sherlock ran in to the room at the exact same moment. There was a excited glint in his eyes and a grin plastered on his face.

"Yes, darling?"

John asked, folding his paper as he was already preparing to leave.

"I've been summoned. We've got a case!" Sherlock said enthusiastically. He was practically squealing. John sighed and went to grab his coat.

Sherlock wore his already and was putting on his scarf. He gave John just enough time to grab the brown leather jacket before grabbing his sleeve, pulling the doctor with him down the stairs.

"Come on, John! We need to get to Lestrade." Sherlock said as he walked out of the apartment and flagged down a cab. He pushed John into it, and quickly jumped in, himself.

"32 Kendal Street, please."

The cabbie nodded, and they were off. John looked at his husband and smiled knowingly. The consulting detective hadn't had an interesting case in a few days, and although John kept him entertained, he was always longing for a good puzzle.

"So, 'Lock, why this case?"

Sherlock looked up, and grinned.

"We," he said, "are going to investigate a special case. There has been a murder on a film set. Well, that's what they think has happened. But there are no wounds, nor any sign of harm on the victim's body. Lestrade wanted me to take a look, so how could I refuse?"

John nodded. The London traffic wasn't too bad around this time and they arrived at the crime-scene in six minutes time.

Sherlock clapped his hands together and held them in front of his face as they walked to the all-to-familiar yellow tape.

"Ah, Freak, and what are you doing here?" the sharp voice of sergeant Donovan cut through the air. John heard Sherlock sigh deeply as he ignored her and ducked under the tape, his eyes already taking in every small detail. John casually nodded, further ignoring the woman and followed his spouse. Lestrade was walking towards them before he greeted them.

"Sherlock, glad you could come. We're at a loss, concerning the case."

"Aren't you always?" the consulting detective said, smirking. He then switched his mood from excited to serious.

"What happened here, exactly, Detective Inspector?" he asked, searching for the body. Lestrade guided them through a group of artists, cameramen and stunt doubles.

They walked through an abandoned set before they finally reached another spot that was covered with forensics.

Anderson was one of them. Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance, but focused on the information Lestrade was giving him.

"The victim is Julia McCoren, she's 43 and was a stunt double." Sherlock knelt down next to the body, taking the little magnifying-glass he always brought with him out of his coat pocket, and started to examine the body.

"We can't determine the cause of death, 'cause there are no actual wounds. Just the body. That man over there," Lestrade pointed to a man who was being comforted by medics,"found her. He's in shock."

Sherlock huffed, and stood up.

"Or so he claims to be…" he softly muttered so only Greg and John could hear him. Greg raised an eyebrow. Then he sighed.

"Okay, give me."

Sherlock's face lightened as he began to explain his idea.

"The victim has been killed deliberately, although not with a weapon. The man would have probably told you that he was innocent, and you believed it, because there are no wounds on the body of any sort, and the man didn't have a weapon on him. Well, that's not quite true, you see, he did."

Sherlock smirked at the face Lestrade was making, and continued."If you would have observed, instead of just plainly looking to the body alone, you would have noticed that there's a carton cup lying on the ground, right here." He knelt, snapping his fingers above the empty cup.

"But look at the cup's position. It could only lie this way if someone dropped it. Also," he picked up the cup, sniffing around the top and in the cup, "there was something wrong with it. If you would look at it, it seems like a regular cup of coffee, nothing wrong, right?" Before Lestrade or John could even begin to answer the question, Sherlock was already continuing.

"No, not right. If you look closely, you'd recognize the faint smell of strychnine. Because of it's bitterness, it wouldn't have been easy to disguise, but a black cup of coffee certainly helps a lot, don't you think?" he smiled. He then turned to John.

"Would you like to tell me the cause of death, John?" He waited patiently while the doctor examined the body. Once John sat up, he looked at Lestrade.

"It looks like she had a seizure, and she was probably so exhausted that her body gave in. I'm not a hundred percent sure, but this is probably the most likely cause of death."

Lestrade nodded, then nudged Sherlock to go on with his explanations, which the consulting detective gladly did.

"The seizures were caused by the poison. Obviously. Lestrade, stay here," Greg had wanted to walk to the man, but Sherlock stopped him,"he doesn't have the poison on him. He wouldn't have made that mistake. Go look in the kitchen instead. The coffee was from an automat, probably an espresso, considering the little drops in the middle and that the coffee has a bit of a mechanic smell. John and I will go question him."

Lestrade nodded, and then walked to the kitchen. John was already on his way when Sherlock called him back.

"Yes, 'Lock?" he asked curiously.

"We need the right armor." Sherlock smirked, "Anderson!" he called out to the forensic. The man turned around, grimace on his face.

"What it is, psycho?" He asked while making a disgusted face. Sherlock merely sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh God… John thought, seeing the detective was going to make a comeback.

"Hello, Anderson, I see you and Sergeant Donovan had an enjoyable evening?" Anderson's face turned crimson, and he shut up.

"We need a forensics jacket."

Anderson didn't move. Sherlock grunted, annoyed.

"Now would be a good time, Anderson."

The forensic still didn't reply, so Sherlock suddenly jumped forwards and undid Anderson of his jacket.

"Hey!" Anderson yelled, while Sherlock unbuttoned his coat and pulled the jacket on. He merely shrugged at Anderson's look, and turned to John.

"John, dear, would you like a jacket, too?" he asked, as if they were shopping. John chuckled softly, answering with a, "Yes, please."

Sherlock stepped towards one of the other forensics men, who gave his jacket without further ado to the sociopath. When John put on his jacket, they walked to the murderer, who was sitting on a bench.

He looked up at the two forensics as they halted in front of him.

"Can I help you?" he said, not sure why two forensics would come to him. One of the two, the longer one, asked in a baritone voice "Can we ask you a few questions about the victim?"

The man nodded. The smaller one started asking basic questions like, "Where are you from?", "What's your name?" and "How long have you know the victim?"

Sherlock decided after another few questions that they had the basic information and could move on.

"So, sir, you've known the victim for some time. If I may ask, was there a special relationship between you two? Were you in a relationship?"

The man was obviously taken aback by the question, and stuttered a bit.

"What? No! No… Of course not, she's married!" The man looked at the two of them.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, we will go back to our work." John said as he had received the silent message from Sherlock that they were done.

The man nodded and then took out his phone, as if to check his messages. As they walked away, John saw that the grin on Sherlock's face grew wider and wider. At the same moment, Lestrade came running towards them, holding something very tightly.

As he reached the consulting detective and his blogger, he held out a small flagon with a white powder in it. Sherlock looked at the DI, waiting for the promising answer.

"It's strychnine, you were right."

The genius smiled.

"Am I not always?" he said while he flung the jacket to Anderson and quickly pulled on his own coat. John rolled his eyes.

"So, what was his motivation?" Lestrade asked. The detective shrugged.

"The normal occasion. Love. They were having an affair, but she didn't want to leave her husband. So she dumped him, but he was very angry. He believes she betrayed him, and therefor came up with a vicious murder plan. He must have really loved her, strychnine isn't very easy to get. He did it quite well, he probably wore gloves, and held her body down when she was having the seizures. It would have been an excellent murder, would he not have forgotten the cup. You can arrest him, Lestrade." Sherlock calmly walked away, John by his side, while Lestrade gathered some sergeants and went to arrest the man.

Sherlock placed an arm around his spouse's waist as they walked to the main road. They chose to walk to Baker Street and chatted a bit while walking through the busy streets of London. When they arrived, they both jolted upstairs, so they could relax for the rest of the day. Once they were in their pyjamas, John smirked and turned to his husband.

"Yes?" Sherlock said while he raised an eyebrow.

"Shall we watch a movie?"

They both chuckled quietly and enjoyed the rest of their evening.

* * *

A/N: So, that was it! You liked? Leave a review! It inspires me! :)


	6. Chapter 6 : The first kiss

**A/N: So, I wrote their first kiss… Ahhhhhhhhhhhh ;)  
Oh yeah, this fic is written under two beautiful songs with Sherlock montage. Seriously beautiful. The names are:  
the scientist | sherlock&john and ****ＳＨＥＲＬＯＣＫ ****/ fix you.  
So yeah, just listen to them**!

* * *

"Sherlock? What are you doing?"  
John shouted as he ran up the stairs to Sherlock's room. John had been sitting in his armchair when he heard a loud bang from Sherlock's room. He opened the door, revealing an empty bed, with the covers pulled half-off. Sherlock's head suddenly popped up from under the sheets while laying on the floor.  
"John?" he whispered, rubbing his hand over the back of his head.  
"My God, Sherlock, what have you done?"  
John knelled next to his friend, helping him to sit on the bed. He looked at Sherlock, who winced a bit.  
"Can I have a look at it, Sherlock?" he asked hesitantly.  
The detective merely nodded. John smiled and sat down on the bed behind him. Sherlock tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He had been… well… enjoying certain activities, while thinking of a certain… someone… He felt John's warm fingers caressing and examining his head and moaned softly. He imagined how those fingers would feel in other, more intimate places. Luckily, John mistook the moan for a moan of pain instead of one of pleasure.  
"It's only a bruise, thank God. But what the hell were you doing?" John tapped Sherlock on his shoulder and the detective turned around to face him. Sherlock winced inwardly. He could feel his cheeks growing a bit warm.  
_Oh, please, have mercy…_  
"Erm…" he scratched the back of his head, "I must have fallen asleep while I was in my mind palace. Nothing to worry about."  
He rose from the bed and started pacing through the room, the thought of John's fingers in his hair still present. John looked at the detective with a raised eyebrow.  
"Sherlock?"  
No answer.  
"Sherlock?!" John asked, more demanding this time.  
Still no reply.  
"SHERLOCK!"  
The sociopath jumped, focusing on the real - and furious – John, instead of the one in his head.  
"Yes, John?" he asked, calm as ever. John breathed out heavily, glad he finally got Sherlock's attention. He looked at the detective, punctuating every syllable.  
"Sherlock, it's not good that you've passed out while being in your mind palace. That usually means your troubled."  
John saw the look of surprise on the detective's face, but as soon as it had gotten there, it went away again.  
"Oh, yes, well… I…"  
John had never heard Sherlock stutter before. He also looked a bit worried, was there something really wrong? Did he want to talk about something?  
"Sherlock? Is there anything you want to talk about?" John asked, carefully watching his friend's face. Sherlock sighed and sat down on the bed again.  
Why not get it over now?  
John had been a bit startled when Sherlock had given in so easily, but he had recovered and was now looking at the sociopath in awe. The light from the window made his face look very majestic, and God… those cheekbones…  
"Well, John, there is something I'd like to discuss, if that'd be alright with you."  
John nodded. Sherlock didn't often care to share his thoughts, so when an occasion occurred, John would welcome it with open arms. Sherlock coughed to clear his throat.  
_Alright, calm down…_  
"Well, John, since you're my flatmate, and more important, my friend, I know I can thrust you." Sherlock paused to look at John, who nodded and nudged him to continue.  
"Well, I think I might be," Sherlock took a deep breath, "attracted to men."  
He quickly turned to John, to see the doctor's reaction. It was one of pure acceptance.  
"And, the problem being…?" John asked.  
Sherlock closed his eyes. He probably was about to scare his only true friend away. But if he didn't tell him, John would eventually find out anyway. And it could be John felt the same for him. And if he didn't, he'd still be his friend. Right? He leaned towards John, until their lips were only centimeters apart.  
"And the problem being is… that I fell in love with a certain John Hamish Watson."  
He then leaned closer, and brushed his lips over John's. No kiss, since Sherlock had no experience in this category and he didn't want it to be more in case John rejected him.  
He felt John stiffen at his touch, and backed of.  
He felt a strange wetness behind his eyes.  
"Sorry…" he managed to choke out. He stood up and wanted to walk away, but his wrist was seized. He turned around, seeing a furious looking John. The sociopath frowned. He hadn't offended John that much, had he? He hadn't expected John to be this angry, but he certainly didn't expected the following.  
The doctor pulled Sherlock onto the bed and kissed him fiercely. Sherlock moaned into the kiss before John backed away. The consulting detective looked into the ex-soldiers eyes, and saw nothing but awe, love and lust.  
"You don't know, my dear, how long I've been waiting for you to say those words." John said lovingly, while stroking a curl out of Sherlock's eye.  
"I've loved you since the day I met you. You make me feel happy. And, although you can be an annoying dick sometimes, I think you're the most beautiful man in the entire world. I could never leave you, even if you blew up the kitchen again, or put another severed head in the fridge without telling me."  
Sherlock smiled genuinely.  
"John, I love you. So much. You make me feel… loved and accepted. You aren't afraid of me, you have never called me "freak" or "weirdo" or "psychopath", and most important of all, you like being with me. You're my best friend and it's a pity it took me so long to realize that I feel so much more than just the love for a best friend. Maybe that's because you're my first and only best friend; not to mention my first boyfriend."  
A tear slid down the doctor's cheek.  
"Do you really think that, 'Lock?" he asked with a lump in his throat. When the other man nodded, the blogger pecked him on the lips and hugged him tight.  
Sherlock leaned into the hug, inhaling John's sweet scent. It was a mixture of tea and oranges.  
Interesting, he thought to himself while he caressed John's short, sandy hair.  
After a while, John backed away slightly, never releasing Sherlock.  
"So," he said smiling, "I guess it's official now, right?"  
The detective nodded. Then a smirk appeared on his face.  
"So, I was right after all…"  
John looked a him questioning now.  
"What do you mean?"  
"The first time by Angelo's, the taxi-driver's case. You were flirting with me!"  
John smiled sheepishly.  
"Yeah, probably. But I wasn't totally sure about my feelings for you just yet. And your 'I'm married to my work' thing didn't help."  
The sociopath smiled and pecked John on his lips again.  
"Yes, it's official now, dear boyfriend of mine."  
John couldn't bare the smug look on Sherlock's face and pulled the taller man down so he could kiss him forcefully. A low moan escaped Sherlock's throat, which caused John to chuckle. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  
"What?" he asked, longing for the shorter man's lips against his again.  
"You know that nickname of yours? The Virgin?"  
John asked before Sherlock nodded, frowning.  
"Well," John tugged on the detective's blazer so they were face to face, "we'll have to change that very soon…" he said, smirking as he pulled Sherlock's lips to his again.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do y'all think? Do you wan the smut that follows? ;)  
Was it okay? 'Cause I think I might've lost Sherlock a bit in his "I Love You!".  
Thanks to eveyone who has taken time to read/review/fave/follow.**

**Love, Emma**


	7. Chapter 7: Telescope and thumbs

**A/N: Hi you guys! I've got a (kind of) free period, so, I'm writing this little messaging fic!**  
**I might include their texts more, that'll be fun, right? :)**  
**Tell me what you think! **  
**Sherlock's texts are Italic and John's bold. **  
**Love, Emma**

* * *

Explicit warning: Slash! You don't have to read it!

_John? - SH_

**Yes, dear? - JW**__

Could you pick up a telescope by Bart's Morgue, before you come home? - SH

**Why? What did you do? - JW**__

**Sherlock? Hello? - JW**

**SHERLOCK ANSWER ME! - JW**__

Calm down, love. I was just in the loo. - SH

**Oh, okay. Then it's fine. But why do I need to pick up a telescope? - JW**  
_  
Because mine doesn't work anymore. Why else would I ask you to bring another one? - SH_

**Sherlock, I can't leave work. You'll need to wait until tonight. I can't skip clinic hours again. Sarah will kill me. Speak of the devil, I need to go. - JW**  
_  
Alright. - SH_

** ~ One hour later ~**

_Bored. - SH_

_**Oh please, 'Lock, I'm working. - JW**___

But I'm bored! I solved two cold cases, and I already did three other experiments, but now I'm also out of thumbs! So you'll need to take some of those from St. Bart's, too. - SH

**Sherlock! You didn't throw anything out of the window, did you? 'Cause people won't be to happy if they find thumbs on the pavement. I need to go. The patient is getting a bit impatient. - JW**__

No, of course not. - SH

John? - SH

You're ignoring me, aren't you. - SH

Alright, I'm going to do the experiment with the highly explosive acid, so there could be a hole in the carpet when you come home. - SH

**NO! Sherlock, you can always come here and get it yourself. - JW**__

That might be a good idea. Maybe I can do the acid-experiment in Bart's lab. Just so that nothing will happen to our beloved carpet. - SH

**Good idea. Is that a hint of sarcasm I detect? - JW**__

Maybe. I'll see you in three minutes. - SH

Make that two. - SH

**…You're taking a cab? - JW**  
_  
No, I'm running. - SH_

I'm here. Where are you? - SH

**In room 221. ) - JW**__

Alright. I guess the lab can wait for a moment. - SH

John smiled and wanted to type a reply, but running footsteps stopped him. A few moments later, the door swung open revealing a panting, red Sherlock Holmes. The doctor smirked as the detective looked around.  
"No patient?" he asked while quirking up an eyebrow. John shook his head.  
"No, just us. Problem?"  
Sherlock launched forward, seizing the doctor's coat and pulled the other man towards him.  
He pressed his lips against the ex-soldier's. Sherlock put a hand on the small of John's back while John tangled his hand in Sherlock's hair and started to massage his scalp slowly. The detective moaned and John took the opportunity to explore Sherlock's mouth with his tongue. They battled for dominance while they explored each other's mouths. Sherlock whimpered and felt John's arousal against his own.  
John felt it too and pulled away slightly, looking up. He moaned at what he saw. He loved the sight of a blushing Sherlock with swollen lips and with that look in his eyes…  
Suddenly, Sherlock pulled John to the hospital bed in the corner. He pushed John onto it, ran to the door and the windows to close them, and then, while he hasted towards John, he discarded his coat and his scarf. John chuckled.  
"Sherlock, here?" he asked, looking bemused.  
"I'm not even going to grace that question with an answer."  
Sherlock bowed over him and slowly placed featherlight kissed down John's jawline. The doctor whimpered as the detective slowly undressed him, nipping and kissing as he went down the soldier's chest.  
Sherlock reached John's trousers and looked up, slowly unbuttoning them and then shoved them and his pants down at once, revealing John's throbbing member. The detective smirked, and slowly lowered his mouth until his breath was ghosting over the head. John gasped with a groan.  
"Is there something you want me to do, John?" Sherlock asked, changing his voice from amused to sexy in an instant. Just as John was about to push Sherlock down, his pager beeped. John huffed and wiggled from under Sherlock. He put his pants back on, and pulled his trousers up, giving the pouting detective an apologizing look while he gave him a peck on his cheek. "Sorry love, duty calls. Tonight, I promise." Then he proceeded to walk out of the room, leaving a Sherlock who was now grinning like an idiot.

* * *

**A/N: So, there. Next one will involve "business". Hope you liked it, and please leave a comment! They help met when I'm out of prompts! :D**  
**Love, Emma**


	8. Chapter 8 : The first time

**Guys, I just wanted to thank everybody who has faved/followed and/or reviewed! **

**YOU ARE THE BEST! *_***

**Hope you'll enjoy the story!**

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_'John? Where are you? - SH' _

_'On a walk getting some fresh air. I guess you didn't notice when I left. Nothing new. - JW' _

_'Oh. Bring some milk, I need it for an experiment. - SH' _

_'Sure, but you'll have to wait. I have things to do. - JW'_

_'Things? What kind of things? - SH'_

_'Well, I hope you do realize that I get bored, too. And lonely, I guess. So I try to meet people. - JW'_

_'But why do you want to meet new people? We can always go out. - SH' _

_'If it's really that hard to figure out, let me explain. I'm looking for a date, Sherlock. - JW'_

_'Oh, okay. I get it. Found anyone yet? - SH'_

_'Sadly, no. Why do you care? - JW'_

_'Just so I can memorize her name. So I can remove the others from my hard drive. Staying away for long? - SH'_

_'Well, apparently you don't have to memorize anything. And I feel tired so I'm getting that milk and coming home. - JW'_

_'Good. - SH'_

_'Shut up or I might change my mind. - JW'_

_'Where are you now? - SH'_

_'There in a minute. It's nice that you miss me that much. - JW'_

_'I don't miss you. I am simply in need of some company. - SH'_

Just as soon as he'd sent the text, Sherlock heard the door open downstairs. He heard soft footsteps on the stairs and quickly turned his head towards the telly again. John didn't bother to see Sherlock's answer on his phone, so he quickly opened the door and climbed the stairs quietly. Upstairs he saw Sherlock watching TV, so he went to the kitchen to put the milk in the fridge. He then joined Sherlock in the main room and stood there in silence for a while.

"I got the milk. Everything okay?"

Sherlock turned to John, but his eyes didn't leave the screen.

"Thank you. Yes, I'm fine. Why are you asking?" The consulting detective asked, trying not to sound too interested. John sat down next to him on the sofa and closed his eyes for a moment.

"What kind of experiment are you going to do with the milk?" his eyes were still closed. After a minute, John opened his eyes and sighed. He grabbed the phone from his pocket and opened it to Sherlock's last message.

"I... I'm asking because I care," John said finally. "And apparently you said you're in need of some company. So, are you going to tell me about that experiment?" he asked again.

Sherlock gave in and turned away from the telly.

"I'm going to make a cake. It's for a case. I need to know how long it takes for a cake to turn black." The genius huffed, ignoring John's statement about caring for him (because he couldn't show his interest).

John couldn't stop a small giggle. He smiled and nudged Sherlock towards the kitchen.

"Alright, then! Show me your cooking skills, Mister Holmes!"

John smiled as he watched Sherlock slouch to the kitchen before following the man. "Can you actually do this?" John asked and tried not to laugh. "Sherlock Holmes, the baking detective," he murmured, but was sure that Sherlock had heard him.

"Uh.. I can help you if that's what you need." John said while standing close to Sherlock, trying to hide his smile.

Sherlock mumbled something as he grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard. John licked his lips.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, I didn't hear you."

"Yes, John, you can help. Will you get the ingredients and put them in this" he handed the bowl to John while giving him the instructions, "Bowl. I need eggs, flower, sugar and, of course, the milk you just bought."

The detective walked over to the oven, preheating it. He smirked slightly. This was going according to plan.

"Okay, fine then," John nodded and went to get the stuff Sherlock needed. "I'm still a bit confused though." John said turning to see if the detective was listening. "Why exactly do you need a cake for a case?"

Sherlock didn't say anything as he walked over to John as he held the bowl in his hand and waited for an answer. "Or am I not supposed to know? I wouldn't be surprised."

Sherlock looked up from his position and sighed. He shrugged and began to look for the measuring cups. Meanwhile his mind was busy with concocting an answer.

John huffed in frustration and placed the bowl on the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm waiting, Sherlock."

The genius passed him the cups and while he rose to his feet, he replied, "Because I need to catch a murderer. It all has to do with a cake that was in the oven. It was burnt, and I need to know how long it takes for it to burn."

John quirked up an eyebrow but began to measure the ingredients. It didn't take long for John to measure all the ingredients, although he was slow with the eggs. When he was done he took a quick look at Sherlock and saw him smirk at something. It made him feel all weird and he wanted Sherlock to look at him to see his smile.

"Right, so, what now?" John asked to finally get Sherlock's attention. Sherlock smirked. This was all quite enjoyable.

"Right, so, what now?"

He turned around and realized a little too late that he was still smirking. He quickly frowned but John had already seen it. Sherlock ignored the self-conscious smile on John's face and walked to the fridge.

"You can mix them. I'll go make the icing." he said while he opened the fridge and took the milk that was standing next to a plastic bag containing thumbs.

"Oh god." John muttered, shaking his head a bit with a smiled. He mixed the ingredients rather slowly and without thinking. He caught himself just standing there staring at his own hands and hid his face with his hands. He sighed deeply and handed the mixed ingredients to Sherlock, who was now apparently standing beside him. "Here. I..um.. no..forget it," he stuttered and left the room to wash his hands in the bathroom.

Sherlock gazed after John. He bit his lip in anticipation. Should he go after John? He had never been good with feelings, that was a fact; and he never cared about it, but sometimes it could be useful. He shrugged and decided to give John a few minutes. He poured the mixture in the tin, and then, as sneaky as he could manage, he dipped a finger in the bowl. He licked the mixture off of his fingers and moaned softly. This was so good!

John washed his hands with cold water and heard a soft voice from the kitchen. He rolled his eyes. He knew Sherlock but this baking thing was something new, even if it was part of a case. "Is something happening?" John shouted and headed back to the kitchen. Sherlock was there, standing with the bowl in his hands. He looked pleased and John was even more confused.

_'There's definitely something going on'_ he thought. He slowly stepped closer. Sherlock still hadn't noticed him. John began to slightly panic. Normally Sherlock would have noticed he was present by now.

"Sherlock?" he slowly reached out a hand, "Are you okay?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and turned around, not expecting John to be so close. He tripped over John's foot and the soldier grabbed the detective just in time. Sherlock's breathing had picked up, but besides that everything seemed fine.

"What are you up to?" John asked and pointed his index finger at Sherlock. "You are acting all... well... not normal!" he continued and Sherlock didn't look him in the eyes. "Could you please explain... or just say something. Anything."

Sherlock sighed and straightened his back. He put the bowl down, noticing his finger was still sticky from the mixture.

"John, I'm okay. There's nothing wrong. Shall we continue?" he asked hesitantly. John just frowned.

"What the hell were you doing?" the doctor asked in more frustration while throwing his hands in the air. Sherlock smirked deviously and slowly brought his finger to his mouth. John's breath hitched in his throat as Sherlock licked the batter of.

"Stop it! Oh, god! Are you sure you're Sherlock Holmes and not.. somebody else?" John said and tried to look angry but failed and couldn't look Sherlock in the eyes. He noticed he was breathing heavily and hoped that Sherlock wouldn't see his shaky hands. Sherlock had a weird look on his face.

_'Okay. He sees it. Clearly. Shit.'_

John panicked and turned away from the detective as quickly as he could. "So what do we do next? I mean the cake..."

_'Shit shit shit... calm yourself! What is wrong with me?!'_

Sherlock watched John's reactions with interest. He could see his pupils were dilating and his hands were shaking. He was surprised, to say the least, at John's outburst. His hands were shaking even more now, but Sherlock couldn't tell if that was because of the anger or something else...

When John turned away and asked him what they would do next, he just accepted that his friend (or was it more than that?) ignored the current situation. He walked past John, and brushed John's hand - on purpose since this was getting rather interesting - lightly with his own.

"We need to make some icing now. Could you put the tin in the oven, please?"

John noticed the light brush and closed his eyes.

_'Okay, John. Think about it. He's Sherlock. He's probably just playing games and this is just an experiment. Be calm.'_

He gulped and cleared his throat. "Yes, I'll do that." John took the tin carefully and put it in the oven, holding his breath. His hands were still somewhat shaky and he really didn't want to drop the tin and see Sherlock's face after that.

"Done. So do you need me to touch- I mean help you with the icing?" John asked and blushed because he knew Sherlock had definitely heard him say that.

_'What the hell is this? He doesn't see it.. or does he?! Sherlock doesn't do things like that... oh my god.'_

Sherlock found this whole situation quite amusing. He had his back towards John, but he could definitely hear the light tremble in his voice. He didn't know why, but his mind repeated it again and again.

_"Done. So do you need me to touch-"_

Sherlock wanted to know what John had wanted to touch. As he finished the icing he came up with a plan. He turned to John, who didn't look totally comfortable.

"Want to taste?" he asked, smiling smugly as he held up a spoon.

"Are you... do I want.. what?" John whispered and quickly folded his hands to stop them from shaking. "Oh that," he muttered as he noticed what Sherlock was holding and tried to smile at him. "Why not? Give me that and-" John started and tried to grab the spoon, but Sherlock didn't give it to him. "Let me," Sherlock said and smirked. "I'm not quite sure I understood that," John said and looked very confused.

_'I don't get this at all! Is this part of the experiment? Or something else? How even?!'_

Sherlock rolled his eyes and took a step towards John.

"I said," he said very slowly, while indicating the spoon with a nod, "Let me."

John stiffened. He didn't know what to do.

_'If this turns out to be an experiment, I'll kill him!'_

But if Sherlock could play this game, he could too, right?

"Alright." he said and slightly opened his mouth. Sherlock was a bit surprised, but foremost he was happy that John worked along a bit. He carefully put the spoon with icing in John's mouth.

"Yes, this is good, Sherlock" he said and decided to look the man in the eyes. For a tiny moment he saw something on Sherlock's face, but it was gone before John could think about it. He wanted to see that again. He turned away from Sherlock once more, but this time he knew what he was doing. "Very good. Very seducing..." he muttered trying to make it sound shy and quiet but so that Sherlock could surely hear him. "What did you say, John?" Sherlock asked quickly and John turned to see his face. There was that look again! "I said it was very good. I'm sure you heard me though."

John smiled. Had he surprised Sherlock?

Sherlock tried to hide the grin that was surely spreading over his features.

Then he heard John mumble something along the lines of Very seducing in his mind again… and he stiffened.

"What did you say, John?" he asked, slightly embarrassed. John turned around, smirking.

"I said it was very good. I'm sure you heard me though."

Sherlock swallowed a few times to get rid of the lump in his throat.

"Ehm… yes, obviously. You liked it?"

"I did. And now I have said that three times. Are you sure you're okay?" John answered and had to look away to hide his grin from Sherlock.

_'I can't believe this! Sherlock has emotions? And that kind of emotions?! Or am I reading him wrong? What am I supposed to do?'_

John thought as he moved his gaze back to Sherlock's face. "So, are we going to do something?" he asked because the other man hadn't said anything or moved. "Do what?" Sherlock said and John could swear he saw his eyes widening. "Sherlock, the cake! I thought you knew what we were doing!" John shrieked.

Sherlock felt his cheeks grow warm.

"Erm… Yes, of course. We have to wait until the cake is done. And then we need to watch it closely." he stammered while he turned away and began to walk to the window. John sensed that this wasn't going the right way. He seized Sherlock's wrist and pulled him back.

"See... Sherlock Holmes. I know you're damn clever and I know you see ..uh things.. but I can't.. I can't read you that way. You know that, too, I guess" John spoke fast and didn't let go of Sherlock's wrist. Sherlock just stared. "You have to tell me the truth about ... things. I can understand the cake but are these.. other things a part of the experiment? Because that much I can see. You've never done anything like that to me- I mean anybody..." John could almost see Sherlock thinking and all he could do was hope that he would understand what he was saying and finally answer him with honest words. As John was trying to get the truth out of him, Sherlock felt a little bit of hope. Was John seriously considering having feelings for him?

He noticed John was quiet and looked at him intently.

"Well, John, those things weren't part of an experiment. Though you could say love is a certain kind of experiment."

He looked at John through his eyelashes and bit his lip. He hoped his confession wouldn't infect their friendship. John was the only friend he ever had, and he didn't want to lose him to something as love.

"Are you saying..?" John whispered and blushed. He suddenly noticed that he was still holding Sherlock from the wrist. Sherlock didn't try to pull away and John didn't let go. "Sherlock, I thought that you didn't think like that... I thought you could never see me like that. I didn't think you knew how I looked at you because I thought you couldn't understand it... but can you?" he blurted. "I see beautiful things in you. Sometimes I see you smile. Sometimes I see you look at me when you think I can't see you. But I honestly always told myself that it was my imagination and that you couldn't... well.." he continued until his voice cracked. Sherlock stayed still. John felt a sting of fear and looked at his shoes. He couldn't believe that Sherlock did this.

Suddenly, John's head was jerked upwards and warm, silk-like lips crushed into his, kissing him feverishly. And before he even noticed, he was kissing Sherlock just as feverishly. After a moment they broke apart and just gazed at each other.

A little smirk appeared on Sherlock's face.

"Oh god, Sherlock. You just... we just... I thought you'd be an awful kisser!" John giggled. Sherlock's face was so close that John could feel his warm breath on his face. He looked down and saw his hand still holding the detective's wrist and slowly he let go. Sherlock's smirk faded a bit but then John took his hand properly and just smiled. "So, Sherlock, tell me what now. I can't think straight... I hope you can."

Sherlock chuckled softly, and John wondered why he had never noticed what kind of an effect the deep baritone voice had on him. Slowly, Sherlock rose a hand and cupped John's cheek softly. He placed a small kiss on John's lips and began to slowly nip John's lower lip. He heard John gasp, but continued and bit down softly. John stood there, completely still, one hand in Sherlock's huge one. Soon he started to lose control of his feet so he wrapped his other hand around Sherlock.

Sherlock growled so very deeply and John just sort of tried to hang on. As their bodies pressed tightly against each other, John went numb. Sherlock didn't let him talk, so he just murmured into his mouth, "Sherlock..god yes."

Sherlock gave John's lip one last nip, and then began to place nips and kisses on the doctor's jaw and neck. Sherlock traced his jawline and then, surprising John entirely, he lifted him, all the while continuing to place soft nips and kisses. John wrapped his legs around him, and he could feel John's arousal against his own. He lifted his head, and said in a hoarse voice, "How about we take this to my bedroom?"

"Oh shut up! You know the ans- oh god- answer.." John muttered and placed his hands in Sherlock's hair. He had to close his eyes as Sherlock continued to tease him. John was still surprised by this whole thing. He had never expected him to be like that - so seductive and knowing and good. John didn't say it out loud, but Sherlock's voice was the thing that got him wanting him really badly. And Sherlock knew how to use it. "I'm not sure we can make it to the bedroom if you do that again." John laughed and then gasped loudly as the genius went on without answering.

For a brief moment, Sherlock looked up and smirked.

"You might not have to get down to get there." He then grasped John's arse tighter and ran with him to the bedroom as quickly as he could. Sherlock pushed the door open with his shoulder and gently laid John down on the bed.

John smirked. Now it was his turn, and he pulled Sherlock onto the bed, too. Sherlock landed right on top of John.

"Sherlock, I want you to know that I need you. I need your voice and your eyes. I need your smile and I need your touch," he whispered into Sherlock's ear. "So give me-" he continued but didn't get to finish the sentence before Sherlock lowered his head to a kiss. "John, I want you out of those clothes." he said when they broke apart. John smiled and started to teasingly unbutton Sherlock's shirt.

"First, let's get you out of yours."

He was halfway through the buttons when Sherlock started to tug on his jumper. John giggled, and Sherlock looked up with lust-clouded eyes.

"How the hell do I get you out of this...?" he asked, tugging more forcefully.

John gasped.

"Do that again." John said as Sherlock looked at him, questioningly.

"Do what again?"

"Curse again. That was one of the sexiest things I've seen you do, ever!"

Sherlock stared at him for a second. Then he moved his mouth next to John's ear. "Daaamn. John, how the hellll," he said very slowly with a very low voice, "do I get you out of this?" John melted.

"How do you do that? If you'd done that before, like sometime while we were solving a case, I could have lost control." He said and Sherlock smirked looking quite pleased. "Take. The Jumper. Off." He growled.

John did.

Sherlock looked at the muscles under the slightly tanned skin and he couldn't prevent his jaw dropping three inches.

"John… You are… so damn beautiful!" he said while stopping at certain points to kiss his lover's chest. John growled low and pulled Sherlock up, kissing him hard. After a few minutes they needed air and John pulled away.

"For God's sake Sherlock. Take your clothes off. Now..."

John started unbuttoning Sherlock's tight shirt again, but the process was slow because Sherlock tried to distract him as often as he could. He struggled with the last button so Sherlock finally offered his helping hands, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind his shoulders. John licked his lips and put his hands on Sherlock's bare chest. Sherlock stopped moving and John felt his heart pounding under his palms. "You are beautiful, too... do you even know how fast your heart is racing?" He said softly. "Doesn't matter, John. We both know why it's racing." Sherlock answered, sliding John's hands lower. John's hand reached the top of Sherlock's trousers, and when he looked down he saw that there was a big dent. He smirked knowingly and palmed Sherlock's arousal through his trousers.

Sherlock moaned low and began to fumble with the zipper of John's jeans, but to no avail. His hands were shaking really bad by now. John looked at Sherlock. Was this his first time ever?

"Sherlock... have you ever... is this your.. uh.. first time?" John asked quietly. He grabbed Sherlock's hands and kissed his neck softly. "You know, it's okay... I really want you," he whispered.

Sherlock was breathing heavily as John placed kisses all over his chest, moving slowly lower and lower. Sherlock let out a low moan, as John's lips traveled further down. He tried to say something, but he couldn't say anything coherent.

"J-joh-hn…" he whispered softly. John chuckled lightly, and then hooked his fingers in Sherlock's trousers.

"Ready?" he asked, while smiling genuinely.

_'Is he that nervous? It's damn adorable!'_ John thought. Sherlock just gasped and murmured something, his mouth on John's neck.

"I can't wait anymore." John said into his ear and then pulled the trousers down.

Sherlock hid his head in John's shoulder, waiting for John's judgement.

"Jesus, 'Lock, you are beautiful."

Well, that was unexpected. He looked up through his eyelashes.

"You really think that?" he asked softly.

"Of course! I would never lie to you!" John replied. "You are amazing... you're.. you," he went on. "Let me touch you," he whispered and pulled Sherlock's body closer to him. Sherlock didn't answer. John looked up into the blue-grey eyes.

"Sherlock?" he asked a bit anxious. A smirk appeared on the detective's face. He bowed over and whispered, "Fuuuck John…," softly into the other man's ear.

The next moment John was on top of Sherlock, grunting and moaning. John wanted to explore every single inch of Sherlock's body. He did his best as Sherlock moaned random words, trying to pull him into a kiss. John smirked and teased him, circling his nipple with his tongue. "Look at me, Sherlock." He said with a low voice. "I want you to look at me when I touch your cock." He growled and Sherlock opened his eyes.

He looked down to see John slowly lowering his hand until it stopped an inch from the top of his cock. John licked his lips seductively and Sherlock's breathing picked up.

"Plea...eassssse!" he stammered.

"Look at me... please." John said again. Sherlock gasped and growled. His eyes widened and then he was looking at him. John smiled and stared back, moving his hand lower and closer until his fingers curled around Sherlock's erection. "God, J-John..." he moaned.

"Do you like this, Sherlock? Do you like it?" John asked teasingly. It was super arousing and he had to breathe deeply. Sherlock had never felt this way before. His mind was foggy, and it felt so great to not have to think for once and let go, but on the other hand, he also was a bit scared of it. But he pushed it away. He would tell John later. It was only a small part of him, anyway.

"Y-yeah..." was all he could say before he started to groan and moan incoherently. John started to move his hand slowly up and down. He felt Sherlock's muscles tighten so he slid his free hand onto his stomach and placed a kiss on his hip, keeping eye contact with the man. Sherlock moaned and as John moved his hand faster and faster, he threw his head back and grabbed John's hair with his hands. Sherlock bit his lip, trying to stifle the stream and moans that were coming out of his mouth. The only thing he could focus on was John's eyes and his hand that kept speeding up. Suddenly, he felt a warm, moist thing against his cock. He opened one eye and saw that John was sucking his cock. The sight almost brought him to his climax, but he contained himself.

John saw Sherlock open one eye and he made sure Sherlock could see his eyes staring up at him. He slowed down and used his tongue to make Sherlock gasp. John had actually never done this before, so he wasn't entirely sure how to do it. But Sherlock didn't complain, so he went on. He wanted to tease the man even more, so he pulled Sherlock's cock out of his mouth and started licking. "Are you close, Sherlock?" he asked, smirking as he continued the teasing.

Sherlock groaned and started to thrust his hips up, moaning.

"Ye- Ea- AAh!" he half-shouted, dragging out the one syllable word into a word of three syllables.

He saw the smirk on John's face, but for once he couldn't care less. His eyes rolled back into his head, and immediately the touch on his cock ended. He squealed and thrust into the air, searching for friction on his throbbing member.

"Ple-easssse..."

John laughed a bit and took him into his mouth again. He sucked him slowly deeper into the back of his throat and growled because the feeling was so overwhelming. "Come into my mouth," John mumbled as loud as he could. He began to move his tongue over the tip of the cock and moaned. Sherlock had the sheets gripped tight in his fists, moaning low and hard. When John swirled his tongue around the head, Sherlock shouted out, "JOOOOOOOHHHHNNN!" and came into John's throat.

His mind was fogged-up and he couldn't think properly. But one thought came straight through the wall of fog.

John still had to climax too. He jumped forwards and pushed John on the bed.

"Now it's my turn…" he growled hungrily.

John was grinning stupidly as Sherlock unzipped his jeans and roughly pulled them off. He was, of course, rock hard and even the feeling of Sherlock's heavy breath on his cock made him let out a gasp. "You are so fucking hot, Sherlock." he managed to mumble.

Sherlock heard him and looked him in the eyes with a smirk on his face. "Yes, John. And I'm going to make you beg."

John quirked up an eyebrow.

"Are you?" he asked. Sherlock just smirked and slowly lowered his mouth onto John's cock. John whimpered softly. Then, Sherlock did that thing with his tongue, and John completely lost it. He started to moan and grunt. Sherlock chuckled and the vibration on his cock drove John mad. "Ohh.. my GOD!" John shouted and reached his hands to touch Sherlock. It was heaven and hell at the same time.

He thrust his hips and tried to lift his head up just to see Sherlock Holmes sucking him. "Please.. please do that again!" John growled. Then he couldn't think or see anymore. John moaned and whimpered. Sherlock was enjoying himself pretty much. It was nice to see John shudder and moan because of what he was doing to him. Then, a devious idea formed in the genius' head.

"John," he said, while licking his lips, "look at me."

The other man tried, and finally he looked at the detective from a weird angle.

"Fuck, John." Sherlock said while he began to kiss his thigh, teasing, but never coming close to John's throbbing erection. "No.. n-no Sh-Sherlock." John stuttered and his hands reached down to touch himself. Sherlock didn't let him do that, though, and he growled as he pushed John's hands away. "I can't ... I have to.." John muttered. He didn't want to be easy but enough is enough, so he raised his voice and pleaded: "Please, Sherlock! ..Please!"

Sherlock smirked, still teasing John.

"Please what, John?" he asked in a low tone while he let his fingers slowly approach where John wanted them the most.

"Just…please, will you-SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock had ducked forward and was now licking and sucking very hard.

"Come for me, John…" he whispered. Only Sherlock's voice would have been enough for John.

As he came he grasped the sheet under him with both hands and threw his head back cursing and moaning. For a while he couldn't open his eyes or move, so he just laid there, trying to breathe. His mind was blank but he could still feel Sherlock's touch on his bare skin. It was amazing. Sherlock crawled next to John and snuggled into the doctor. He sighed contently and gave John a peck on his cheek.

"Sherlock..." John muttered softly, cuddling the detective.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, feeling tired.

"That was... unbelievable." John giggled. He wanted to ask how long Sherlock had been wanting this and why did this happen now, but he couldn't find the right words. An image of Sherlock looking at him like that when he wasn't looking came to his mind and it made him laugh. It just felt so stupid that he was so clever and always right but couldn't be sure about John.

Sherlock placed an arm around his waist and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"John?" he asked softly, trying to keep his eyes open. He felt tired and a bit hungry, but not enough for him to get up and get some food. "What?" John whispered, his mouth near Sherlock's ear. There was a smile on his face and he couldn't resist the urge to place a small kiss on Sherlock's neck. Then he yawned and closed his eyes. He hoped Sherlock would just stay where he was and maybe not get bored.

John got a bit worried when Sherlock didn't answer. He opened his eyes.

"Sherlock?" he asked quietly. Then, he heard the soft snoring. John couldn't believe it. Sherlock. Was. Sleeping. John shook his head but smiled at the sight. He was tired too so he closed his eyes and listened to the snoring. John fell asleep rather quickly. Suddenly, he felt Sherlock jump up. Still sleep-drunk, he opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock, who just walked out of the room.

"Sherlock… What the hell?" John asked while he leaned up on his elbows. The detective's head appeared around the door.

"The cake!" Sherlock cried and then disappeared again. John fell down again, chuckling. After a few moments he heard footsteps on the stairs again. The genius slouched next to the bed and then fell on it.

Before John fell asleep again, he heard the detective mutter, "Bloody cake…" before Sherlock fell asleep as well.

* * *

**A/N: Well… This is a role play between me and shutuplock (Look her up on Tumblr, she's awesome) and we got carried away a bit… 5.000 words ain't nothing! ;)  
So you could say this is a 'retake' on my sixth chapter. I hope you like it!**

**Ray:  
Hahaha, yeah… You should actually check out the drawing from ~Choko17 (dA) that inspired it! :D**

**Well, lets say, Reviews/Faves/Follows are inspiration - ideas - writing - quicker updates!  
So review/fave/follow and make my day!**

**Love, Ema**


	9. Chapter 9 : Important AN

NO CHAPTER! AUTHOR'S NOTE!

Okay, now we had that, I got to make an apology for keeping you guys waiting so long. I just had a really shitty month. Because a few thing happened. First up, school needs a lot of attention right now. Secondly, (more bad news) as you probably know, I write on my phone. And a week or two ago I put the Dr. Who soundtrack on it. But the computer did a total rewrite on all my apps, which meant that the almost finished chapter (2.000 words) disappeared along with all my ideas and prompts. So if you have any ideas/prompts, just PM or review! It would help a lot and I will be able to update sooner.

So that's the excuse guys! Again, very very sorry. John and Sherlock want to say something, too.

John: Hello, erm...I firstly want to thank you all a gazilion times for taking time to read this and stuff. Emma is trying really hard, but Sherlock and I had a domestic lately, which was a bit inconvenient for her and also me and Sherlock. But the update will come soon!

Sherlock: What John said.

John: Sherlock! Try to at least be nice. These people viewed out story 2.725 times!

Sherlock: Fine, fine. Thank you. And please do try to help Emma with prompys as she's rusty at the moment.

Emma: Hey! That's it! Sherlock you're getting almosy violently killed.

John: NO! PLEASE DON'T!

Sherlock: Oh yeah? Bring it!

*A very interesting banter fight develops.*

Emma: *panting* Okay, Author's Note is done. Thanks for reading. :)


	10. Chapter 10: Bored!

**A/N: Soooo! New chapter! AND YOU GUYS ARE ALL GETTING A GAZILLION HUGS BECAUSE THIS STORY HAS BEEN VIEWED 3,100 TIMES! OH GOD YES!**  
**So, I thought "Why not do a vigorous case after all that slashy wicky smut? We can't let the brain rot away, after all, can we now?" Anyway, not going to bother you with this AN anymore. **  
**Enjoy! **

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"John, I need a case. Get me a case!" Sherlock growled from the couch. John sighed deeply and turned the gas off as the water started to boil. "Sherlock, we've been looking for one. You solved all of Lestrade and Dimmock's cold cases, and you refuse to take on any private cases! I can't always provide you with everything, you know. Now, do you want a cuppa?" he added as he grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard.

"Yes, please.." Sherlock muttered before jumping up. He started to pace through the room, John all the while watching his husband and shook his head in adoration. Sometimes Sherlock could be so adorable when he did things like this, but most of the time he was just bloody annoying. The doctor got his phone out of his pocket as he put some sugar in Sherlock's cup, sending Lestrade a text.

_'You don't happen to have any open cases that need solving, do you? I've got a frustrated Sherlock on my hands. - JW'_

He put his phone down again and handed a still-pacing Sherlock his mug. The consulting detective grunted his thanks and took a sip fom the boiling-hot tea. At first he didn't notice the burn, but soon after, he put the mug down and proceeded to run to the sink. He opened the tap and tilted his head to drink the cool water that was now pouring out of the pipe fast. John looked at him, half concerned, half amused.

"You okay, love?" he inquired and patted Sherlock's back. His husband looked at him with a, 'you know I'm bored, so I'm not fine', look. A beep could be heard after a few seconds, John praising the heavens once he got to his phone.

It was Lestrade saying they needed Sherlock for a case down at Scotland Yard. He held up the phone, smirking all the while, so Sherlock could read it. A huge grin appeared on the taller man's face before he flung forward, kissing John hard on the mouth, and then proceeding to run upstairs to get some clothes to put on his lean, lithe, pale body... Hold it right there, mister! No boners at crime-scenes, please. He read through the text Lestrade had sent them again in the meanwhile.

_'John, if you and Sherlock could come over, and I take it you're not busy, we have an interesting case. Details will follow at the crime-scene. Come to the Yard, from there we will see what happens. - GL'_

John put his phone in his pocket again before he finished his tea, going to go and look for his jacket once he had put the cup in the kitchen sink. Sherlock walked in quietly when John stood with his back to him and the consulting detective couldn't resist the temptation. He snuck up behind his husband and wrapped his arms around the shorter man's waist. "Hello, handsome..." he whispered and pecked John's cheek gently.

John smiled, leaning into Sherlock's embrace. His mind traveled back to this morning, and he swallowed, blinking a few times to keep his thoughts on the here and now instead of the there and then. Sherlock noticed John was trying to not get aroused, so he pecked his love's cheek once more before he grabbed his coat and scarf.

While putting on the coat, he walked out of the flat, in a much better mood than ten minutes ago. He hailed a cab and held the door open for John. John chuckled and bowed his head to get into the cab. Sherlock swiftly followed and told the cabbie where to go.

When they arrived at the Yard, Sherlock was literally high with excitement. He hadn't had a proper case in about a week, so his brain was craving a decent challenge. Lestrade was awaiting them by the door, quickly starting to brief them when they walked up.

"Alright, got a homicide for you today, Sherlock. Victim is in her mid-thirties. She doesn't have any ID on her, not even a name tag or something like that. But, we're running fingerprints right now to see if we can figure out who she is."

Sherlock nodded and while they walked to Lestrade's office he pressed his hands together and placed them under his chin.

"So, just the woman? No signs of any other presence at all?" John inquired. Sherlock answered with, "Obviously. There was nobody there. Well, not anymore, at least." His mind was starting to construct the scene, but after he closed and opened his eyes a couple of times, he sighed and turned around.

"Sherlock? Where are you going?" Lestrade asked and gave John a look before they both ran after the detective. When they reached him, Sherlock explained.

"I need to see the crime scene. And, although I hate to admit it, we need to be there fast. So we'll have to use a police car." He said, and at Lestrade's grin, he smiled and added, "I'll be driving."

Lestrade quirked up an eyebrow and frowned, but after he and Sherlock had a mini staring contest, he sighed and handed the keys to his car over to Sherlock in defeat.

"Be careful. I don't want you crashing us as an experiment." The detective inspector said in a serious tone. Sherlock nodded and pressed the button to unlock the doors of the car as soon as they got outside. The consulting detective got behind the steering wheel, looking over his shoulder to John while Lestrade sat next to him.  
The genius got them flawlessly out of the parking lot, and mingled in the traffic. "Northumberland Street, number 58, correct?" Sherlock inquired as he maneuvered the vehicle through the afternoon traffic. Lestrade merely nodded, a tad paler than he had been before he got into the vehicle. Sherlock glanced at Greg and merely chuckled.

"Oh, come now, detective inspector, have a little faith in me." He smirked as he put the siren on, ignoring Lestrade's protests.

"Sherlock!"

"What?"

"Turn it off!"

"But we need to get there as fast as possible!"

"I- You... Fine, but just this once."

Sherlock smiled and brought them to the right address in less than five minutes. The genius got out and threw the keys over the car to Lestrade. "So, where is this woman?" Sherlock asked, his unique look of calculating thought on his face. John moistened his lips a bit with his tongue and decided to look away, just in case his body decided to betray him.

"She's inside. You two go take a look, I need to do something." Lestrade said while walking over to another sergeant. Sherlock nodded and pulled John with him, heading for the yellow tape that covered the door of the house. As soon as they were inside, John's stomach turned inside out, and he closed his eyes.

There was a big, dark bloodstain on the ceiling, and the floor beneath it was covered with maggots. "Oh god..." John mumbled and held his detective close. "Come on, John. It'll be fine." Sherlock soothed him before he walked up the stairs, taking a pair of latex-gloves and pulling them on as he did. John followed and did the same.

Once he got upstairs, Sherlock was quickly inside the room where the corpse probably was, and taking a deep breath as John opened the door and walked in. If he hadn't been a physician and a war veteran, he might have thrown up. The woman had a major head wound, her hair and the wound itself completely covered with maggots.

Sherlock sat next to the body and crouched down to get a closer look. Narrowing his eyes, he trailed them over the body. Calculating, deducing. Something was wrong... There had to be, it didn't feel right. Sherlock then started to mumble incoherent information about the wound, like 'caused by a blunt object' or 'was hit from behind with force, probably by someone who had worked out his arms heavily'. Trailing one hand down the body, Sherlock frowned again.

"John..." He mumbled, gesturing the doctor to come closer. "How long has she been dead?"

Sitting down next to Sherlock, John sighed and gave her a look over. When he was done, he frowned, too. The door opened and Lestrade came in, eagerly waiting for what Sherlock had to tell him. Frowning as he saw the two men crouched down beside the body, he cleared his throat.

"Something wrong?" The D.I. asked with concern.

"It would seem so..." Sherlock mumbled as he got up. "John? Your opinion, please?"

Looking up, the doctor narrowed his eyes. "Um... Well, her eyes aren't turbid like they should be after this much time has passed since the time of death, because seeing how big the maggots are, I would say she's been here three to four days. However, maybe her liver temperature tells us more-"

Sherlock cut him off with a sharp "John."

Groaning, both the doctor and the detective inspector looked at the sociopath. "What is it, Sherlock?" John asked, slightly irritated.

"John, she's perspiring. She's still alive."

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**A/N: Pom pom pom POOOM. Yeah, little plot twist over there. Don't mention it. Second chapter of this arc will be up soon. If you tell me if you like it or not. Because what's the point in writing if I don't improve, right? Also, new fic is coming up. So keep your eyes open.**


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